A Gangsta for Justice
by PhoenixofSolitude
Summary: In which Wocky realizes he has a crush on Apollo. Takes place after Turnabout Corner. Two-shot. Rated for language and sexual content.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hey, everyone! After reading AA fanfics for a while, I finally had the courage to write my own! One of my favorite characters would have to be Wocky. There was something about him that's so endearing. I don't know, lol. This story is basically how I see Justaki (Apocky?). Thanks for reading!**

 **Disclaimer: I do not own the** ** _Ace Attorney_** **series or any of the characters therein.**

* * *

Guilty or otherwise, they should've locked him away in jail. Not only would it have given him "mad street cred" and made him "the ultimate G," a life of defending himself from inmates would've kept his mind more...occupied. And away from one Apollo Justice.

Ever since Wocky was declared "not guilty" of murdering Meraktis, Alita's imprisonment weighed him down; his "fallen angel" had hit the ground. Hard. For weeks on end, Wocky cried for her in solitude. In public, he traded his "weak-ass" feelings for a bitter, furious exterior that chased customers away from his family's muffin bakery. He was tarnishing what good the Kitakis were struggling to establish, earning himself the moniker of "The Fanged Fox."

Along with his newly-aggressive nature, Wocky gained a knack for being distracted that worried his parents. He constantly replayed his trial in his head until the memories were dull and the tears stopped, at the expense of what he was doing at the time. He cared less and less for Alita as time passed (the gold-diggin' bitch!) and focused more and more on the young defense attorney who helped him out: Apollo Justice.

The thought of Apollo made Wocky's heart fumble in his chest in ways he didn't understand. Made him twitch and break out into a sweat. For a while he blamed the sensation on his heart regaining strength after surgery, but he knew that wasn't it. What he felt about Pointy-locks now was what he used to feel about Alita long ago: like he could sacrifice his life to protect him, like he wanted to hold him in his arms forever.

Wocky didn't mind being gay; after all, the word "gay" started with a "g" and he was always calling himself a "G" anyway (as a gangsta, of course), so why not adopt the new title? It was one more "g" to add to how badass he was. To Wocky, being a G meant following a different path from everyone else. And if that path led to Apollo Justice, then it was the one he'd follow.

But how? Where did these thoughts come from? Was it misplaced respect for someone who saved Wocky's life? Maybe, but that didn't stop him from lying awake night after night, picturing how brave Justice looked in court, raising objections and sharing evidence. From picturing how fly he looked in that red suit.

Though it drove Wocky to utter embarrassment to admit it, he couldn't sleep until he ran his own hands all over his body, imagining that he was relishing in Apollo's touch—leaving himself moaning and panting with desire. How he began each morning with a cold shower, promising to never think about Apollo in such a way again, only to break that promise the next night. A wack cycle unfit for a dope gangsta.

Something had to be done.

* * *

Wocky was the kind of guy to tackle his problems head-on, taking care of them with the gracefulness of a bull. It was that same rashness that led him to write Apollo a letter (he couldn't risk calling the Wright Anything Agency if someone other than Justice answered the phone, nor could he bring himself to talk if he were to get through to him). In a letter Wocky felt as if he could control exactly what he wanted to say. He was going to act cool, keep it "one hundred":

Yo! Attorney-Man!

Haven't heard from you since I dodged the clink! Howzit goin', dawg?

See, I've been thinkin' about my trial and shit lately. How things

went down. Imma need you to meet me for a talk down at the park.

You know the one. Friday, at noon sometime? Beast. You best be there!

Wocky

Satisfied with what he wrote, Wocky folded his letter and crammed it into an envelope. He ran down to the mailbox before returning to the muffin shop. There he baked trays and trays of pastries while humming a lively tune, much to his parents' amusement.

* * *

It was three days later, Thursday afternoon, when Wocky was given a letter from the Wright Anything Agency by one of his fellow mobsters. Ignoring the confused look on the man's face, Wocky hid himself in his room, giggling like a schoolgirl as he forced a pocketknife along a corner of the envelope. Once the letter was opened, he reached inside the envelope, pulling out a perfectly folded paper. With clumsy fingers, Wocky opened the letter and read:

Wocky,

I'm doing fine, thanks. We're to meet at People Park, right?

Sure. I'll be there. See you then.

Apollo

Wocky couldn't help but grin at his luck. Justice was agreeing to meet him! He studied the neat, cursive handwriting that peppered the paper in his hands, tracing each loop with his eyes. He could see Apollo writing at some fancy desk, tapping a pen against his lip ever so often in thought. So _hawt_! Reluctantly, Wocky raised the letter to his nose, sighing in bliss at the faint scent of pine trees. He was definitely going to marry the defense attorney. He was gonna!

The name "Apollo Justice-Kitaki" was _drippin'_ mad swag, yo!


	2. Chapter 2

Apollo couldn't breathe. It wasn't every day that he received correspondence from an ex-mob kingpin's son asking to meet at the park for a _talk_. There was enough mobster movies out there to know that a "talk" usually ended up with a decapitation or a body full of bullets. And Apollo wasn't ready to die.

He didn't know if he was being pranked, or if the letter from Wocky was totally serious (either way, he had a hard time believing anything the young Kitaki said), so Apollo decided to keep his response as brief as he could. Dropping the letter in the mailbox with shaking hands, he expected to lose plenty of sleep between now (Wednesday) and Friday. How was he supposed to prepare for such meeting? Should he bring a knife? A gun? A witness?

"I'm fine...I'm fine...I'm fine..." Apollo mumbled the mantra nonstop since agreeing to meet up with Wocky, shaking his head whenever Trucy or Wright asked him why he was doing so. He couldn't risk telling his co-workers about his plans at the park, lest they wind up on the Kitakis' hit list. This was a mission for Apollo and Apollo alone. At least he lived a good life, right?

* * *

Friday came faster than a speeding bullet (no pun intended). Apollo had spent hours in front of the mirror in his room, deciding what to wear (why wasn't a bulletproof vest one of his options?). He settled on a pair of dark denim skinny jeans, brown cowboy boots (to allude to confidence he didn't have), a salmon-colored shirt, and a dark-red hoodie with the sleeves rolled up. The outfit seemed friendly but tough, right? At least he hoped so. Slipping on his mother's bracelet, he made a light breakfast consisting of a bagel and water (in case his stomach was too nervous to agree with him), hopped on his red bike, and rode off to People Park. Everything was going to be fine.

* * *

Apollo dug the heels of his boots in the dirt; it was the only thing that kept him from pacing in front of the bench he currently sat on. It was 11:58 and still no sign of Wocky. Or of anyone, to be exact. The park was secluded at this time of day, with people too busy at work or school to walk its trodden pathways. With the sound of birds as his only accompaniment, Apollo wished he would've told someone of his whereabouts this morning. How could he be _that_ stupid—?

Leaves crunched nearby, and Apollo's head shot up to see a familiar figure walking his way. It was Wocky, hands in his jacket pockets, his head downcast. Suddenly Wocky lifted his head, his eyes meeting with Apollo's, and he grinned. Weird.

"H-Hey..." Apollo greeted the gangster with a small wave, wincing as the other boy sat down next to him so close that their shoulders brushed against each other's, "Everything fine?"

"Yeah, yeah. 'S cool, homie!" Wocky twirled the ends of his orange bangs around his finger repeatedly, a smile spreading across his features.

Apollo could've sworn he saw Wocky blush, but he shook off the notion. "Right. So you wanted to talk about your trial? I'm not sure how much I can do for you, it being over and all. I'm not a guidance counselor." He let out a loud, nervous laugh.

Wocky glanced down at his own hands for a moment, then searched Apollo's face. His gaze fell upon Apollo's lips before diving at them with full force.

The defense attorney had no time to register what was going on; his teeth met with those of Wocky's before he was subjected to sloppy, hungry, desperate kisses and hands that gripped his sides too tightly. He struggled to free himself from Kitaki's hold, sinking his fingers into Kitaki's arms and flinging him back against the bench. "Wh-Wh-Wh-What the _hell_!?"

Frozen in place, Wocky's face was contorted in pain, and his bottom lip quivered as if he were going to explode in anger or cry. He avoided Apollo's stare, pretending not to hear his harsh breathing or string of obscenities.

Apollo wiped at his mouth with his backside of his hand, shivering in disgust. Did Wocky just _kiss_ him? He guessed it was _slightly_ better than having a knife held at his throat or being held at gunpoint, but now he couldn't get the taste of Eldoon's salty noodles from his mouth or rid himself of the slimy coating of saliva that stained his cheeks.

The boys sat in silence for a while, the tension around them like a dense fog.

"What was that all about, huh?" Apollo spat, perhaps a little boldly than he intended to, "Why did you just...?" In the back of his mind, he knew he was being too harsh on Wocky, especially since he belonged to a family that could tear him limb from limb, but Wocky had invaded his personal space! Assaulted him!

"...Naw, man. I'm outta here. Peace!" Wocky got up from the bench, cheeks burning, preparing for the walk back.

Apollo reached out and grabbed Wocky's arm, yanking him down onto the steel bench frame. "No you're not. What's the matter? The 'Fanged Fox' lose his fangs? You wanted me here to talk, so let's talk!"

Wocky let out a small gasp, his eyes wide in bewilderment at Apollo. He ran a hand across the back of his neck in a sheepish manner, focusing on a lamppost a little ways off. "I don't wanna talk no more. It ain't G to have feelings! Forget this shit ever happened, dawg! You go your way, and imma go mine's!" He attempted to get up again, but Apollo's grip on his wrist convinced him otherwise.

"'G' or not, you're human. Humans have feelings, Wocky. You can't go around suppressing how you feel until it destroys you from the inside. You have to let people in!" Apollo paused, his voice trembling with emotion, his eyes filling with tears. Somehow, some way, Wocky reminded him of Clay. And after all this time, the memories of Clay still hurt. "Y-You wanted to talk before. You seemed eager to! What changed? Are you worried about your 'rep'? Worried that I won't listen?"

Another pause followed.

Wocky shut his eyes, tears rolling down his cheeks. He growled, wiping at them with an angry fist, sobs rocking his shoulders. He kicked at dirt, he pounded his fists in his lap, then turned to Apollo with blazing eyes. "You wanna know what _I_ feel? Fine! _Fine_!" He let out a shaky breath and continued, "Ever since my trial ended, my heart was fixed, ya heard? But it's...still broke. I had problems trustin' people before, but now I can't even stand to get close to no one! Everyone around me gave up, man! My folks keep goin' on and on about how their fuckin' muffin business is the shit, but we all know it ain't right! Who ever heard of _G's_ bakin' _muffins_?"

Apollo loosened his hand on Wocky's wrist, throwing it over his shoulders instead.

"Real talk, doe!" Wocky went on, "I...realized that Alita was pretty screwed up after all, the gold-diggin' bitch, and I ain't ever gonna find love again!"

"Why do you say that? That you'll never find love?"

Wocky scowled, narrowing his eyes. "As if you hafta ask, Attorney-Man! So I couldn't trust no one...Except for one person. I couldn't stop thinkin' about them, how they had that courage stuff, how dedicated they was...all that. Man, they got me _all the way_ messed up!" He snickered, face brightening for a moment, "I tried to keep those feelings on lock, and...I couldn't. So...I went to them and..."

"And?" Apollo watched as Wocky contemplated something, the gangster tilting his head from side to side.

"What if I told you... _You_ was the person I was talkin' about?" Wocky turned to Apollo with a feeble smile, "What if you was the person I couldn't get offa my mind? If I thought you was my hero? My...love?"

"Ack! Now that kiss makes sense!" Apollo whispered to himself. To Wocky, he added, "I-I'd be really flattered. Really! People don't usually see me that way." He blushed.

Wocky watched Apollo carefully, a seriousness on his face Apollo had never before witnessed. "But?"

Apollo leaned forward, matching Wocky's lips with his own. He kissed him slowly, softly, sensually. He rolled on top of Kitaki, straddling him, moaning in response as Kitaki returned his tender kisses.

There was something about Wocky's strong hands at his waist—or the fact that they were going beyond the acceptable parameters for public displays of affection—that really turned Apollo on. He wrapped his arms around Wocky's neck, kissing a line along his jawline. He paused to breathe, saying the words Wocky had been dying to hear for the longest time:

"Time to be _my_ hero."


End file.
